Kill The Pain
by MsMarvelous
Summary: He is broken. His body is injured and his mind is tormented. He requires maintenance. He fears Hydra… What is a shattered Asset to do when he is overwhelmed by a past he doesn't remember and a present too unbearable to live through?


**Kill the Pain**

I do not own these characters but boy if I did…..

Authors note: 'Ello!... So during he first part of this story picture the Winter Soldier when he was fighting Steve on the falling Helicarrier, when they were both badly injured and Bucky was scared and confused. The Second part, picture him when he was sitting in the chair being questioned by Peirce. Those scenes were my inspiration for how I am trying to depict our dear boy.

Hope you enjoy!

The Asset growled low and dangerous as he glared at the occupants of the room who kept their distance, watching him warily like the cornered beast he was. He was covered in filth, greasy hair hanging in clumps over his gaunt face down to his bare shoulders. His torso was exposed, showing a multitude of scars and the prevalence of his ribs after weeks with out nutritional intake. He watched his captors with seething rage and anger, tempered only by his confusion and bewilderment. His eyes darted frantically around the bright, sterile room, a laboratory with machines that would be used to stabilize the erratic and volatile Asset. He grit his teeth and let out another furious, guttural roar as one of the men, perhaps his new Handler, took a cautious step forward. The Soldier scooted back further until he was completely pressed against the wall, eyes scanning the room for the exit as his metal arm clung to his useless flesh one. It had been badly broken and then healed with out proper medical maintenance, leaving it awkwardly painful and disabled, tucked up defensively under his folded body.

The Winter Soldier was panting, his lungs burning for air as his heart hammered in his chest. His vision was compromised, blurring in and out as was his hearing and his thoughts were disjointed and jumbled. _Where was he? How did he get here? How did they find him?_ The man who was standing closest continued to advance, taking slow deliberate steps, cautious but determined. He was talking, speaking directly to the Asset who was still looking all around him and back toward the man's boots that stopped a few feet away. The Asset snarled as he tried to focus on the words that seemed drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears from his rapidly beating heart.

"….your arm…..broken…" The Soldier could hear only a few words, as the voice pierced through his pain and fear clouded mind.

" _Het!_ " The Asset whispered between chapped lips, his voice horse and throat dry. He shook with rage, adrenaline, fear but mostly from withdrawal. The Soldier knew very little about how Hydra maintained him, yet he had sharp, jagged pieces of memory that had been slowly cutting through his conditioning, puncturing holes in the ridged programing his handlers had reinforced for so long. He knew that they had kept him subdued not just through punishment or mind shattering wips that cleared his memory. He recalled syringes and tubes, the feeling of liquid fire replaced by cool numbness, a mindless calm and complacency that made him easier to handle and smothered the fire of violent rage that was often ignited within him during a mission with active combat. He had grown in awareness since failing his mission and going AWOL. The more he remembered the angrier he had gotten and the longer he went with out maintenance the more his body had begun to break down, aching for the stabilizing chemical cocktails Hydra used to control their Asset.

The boots took another step forward and the Soldier screamed in desperate fury, lashing out with his metal arm, like a lion with his claws out, still protecting his injured flesh arm as he kept it toward the wall. He was taking in huge gulps of air, whole body shaking as he convulsed once and wrenched forward, blood spilling out from his noise and mouth before he clenched his jaw and a pain filled cry escaped his throat. He was in utter agony both mentally and physically, his body barley functioning. In the weeks after the failure of project insight, after his failure, he had recognized the steady decline of his capabilities and ability to function.

At first he had been too distracted by the jumble of foreign thoughts that raced through his skull all day and night. He was caught up in a whirlwind of internal chaos, images, sounds and smells that were familiar and yet completely new, demanding his attention. They were memories, his memories, but not his, a life that was not his, that left him with a desperate yearning for more. He was overwhelmed and disoriented, at times gripping his head in shear torment, the pain almost as excruciating as a wipe. Other times he was completely weighed down by an onslaught of emotions that brought tears to his eyes and ripped cries from his raw throat as he lay limply huddled in a dark ally or in an abandoned building.

The crushing waves of thought and feeling and memory seemed endless and he was rarely able to swallow back the tide long enough to try and consider his present situation at hand. He soon realized that despite the basic impulse of survival and the instinct to seek out Hydra for maintenance along with the programming that constantly ordered him to report back to his handlers, he felt an undeniable need to understand the strange glimpses of past that were not his. He was vaguely certain that it was all connected with the Man, his Mission, Captain America, who had called him by a name, James Buchannan Barnes. That was how he found himself standing in front of a picture of his own face in the Smithsonian. That was how he learned the horrifying truth, that he was not just Hydra's Weapon, an Asset to be used, but had once been a man, a man with a name and a life of his own.

The realization had been overwhelming and oppressive yet left him feeling consciously aware of his emptiness and the yarning grew even stronger. His mind became rapid fire after that, day and night he was plagued by flashes of memory and with them thoughts and feelings that startled and shocked the Soldier who had been only use to a forced numbness, detached from the world around him before and after a mission. Everything was vivid and sharp and nauseating. His head spun and he became lost inside himself, neglecting the physical needs of his body.

That must have been how they found him, lost in thought, practically comatose and unresponsive to the world around him. The Asset let out a choked noise of pain and grief and anger at his own uselessness, allowing himself to be recaptured by Hydra. He turned away from the boots as he closed his eyes and swallowed a desperate and confused sob. Even now he was at war with himself. Part of him was desperate for escape, desperate to hold on to the shreds of memory that he had been weaving together within his tormented mind, like a puzzle with too many holes to see the full picture yet still promising to be more then he could even imagine. The other part of him, the ever obedient Asset, was all too eager to surrender, to give in and welcome the end of this terrifying and agonizing ordeal. He would gladly accept punishment and then he could be wiped clean, his body fixed and put back on ice. He hated Cryo, the chair, he hated Hydra, but at the moment, everything felt so unbearable that he almost wept with relief that they had found him.

That was until the awful thought pierced through his confused and muddled mind, a terrifying notion that dawned on him the moment he heard the Handler approach him and ask about his arm. It was broken and had healed wrong, it was not functional. They had seen it, and he felt a pit of sickening dread seep into him as he knew what they would do, what they had already done once before.

"…..arm is broken,…..our Doctor…..fix it." The words faded in and out through his echoed hearing as the Soldier hyperventilated, curling his entire body around his flesh arm, trembling as he shook his head back and forth, eyes clamped shut.

" _HET!...HET!. …_ Вы не можете взять его . (No,…No… You can't take it!)" The Asset barked out in Russian, his voice desperate and threatening even as he cowered away from the Handler and the other Hydra agents.

…

"Natasha,….. What's he saying?" Steve asked with a heavy sigh as he stood between Bucky and the other Avengers in Bruce's lab at the Tower. The Captain looked down at Bucky with heart ache and concern before looking back toward the his team mates who had helped him locate the Soldier after months of looking. It had just been Steve and Sam at first, but when their trail went cold they asked Natasha who intern brought the others into the mix. It had been Tony or rather Jarvis that had finally found their first lead when he found a partial facial recognition, a brief glimpse of the side of a man's face hidden beneath a ball cap. It came from security footage at the Smithsonian and even though it was hardly recognizable to the human eye, Jarvis was able to analyze and measure the specific bone structure of the jaw line down to the most precise equation, stating the comparison was at least 93% accurate and therefore most likely Sergeant Barnes. The footage had been from only two weeks after the fall of the Helicarriers but it gave them something to work with and Steve a renewed sense of hope that perhaps Bucky was ready to accept the truth about his past.

The search had resumed and yet still they found only dead ends. Witnesses that said they saw a homeless man matching Bucky's description talking to himself in Russian at a library just outside of D.C. He had tried to take off with several books about WWII and The Howling Commandos but had thrown them and ran when confronted by security. There was a police report a few weeks later of a man being hit by a car after stumbling into the street while clutching his head. He had gotten up and jumped onto the car, then punched through the window, grabbing the driver by his throat with a metal hand before letting go and running away. Then there was nothing for almost a month until a few days ago when Stark had come up with an idea, inspired during his ramblings with Bruce. He created electronic sonar that used magnetic frequencies to scan for the specific metal components within Bucky's arm.

Tony had used the Hydra files recovered by Natasha to learn all he could about the metal prosthetic, marveling that it was made from Titanium Alloy but then up graded in the late 90's with Vibrainum joints. He used the specifics to create the magnetic scanner and then replicated it and sent it out using over a dozen droids all over the east coast to scan for the unique signature. It only took a few days before a match was found in nearby Brooklyn, New York. Steve could not suppress the hope that it was a sign Bucky was remembering.

That optimism had diminished however when he had gone off on his own into the abandoned warehouse less then a mile from the docks where Bucky use to work. Steve had insisted the others hang back in the jet as he carefully made his way through the debris, shield out-front but mask off in the prospect that his long lost friend might recognize his face. Steve's breath had caught as he discovered the disheveled and gravely ill form of his best friend hidden in a dark corner. His eyes were open but glazed over and distant, unfocused. He was laying curled up, knees drawn in with the metal arm wrapped around them, completely still but for the wet, shallow breaths that wheezed from infected lungs. Steve had called to his friend but had received no answer, even as he crouched down before him and rest a hand on his brother's cheek, alarmed at the heat of his moist skin in the cool night air, sweat beaded up on his brown.

It had been too easy for Steve to lift the despondent, catatonic man and bring him onto the plane. There had been no need for tranquilizers as he was completely unresponsive and made no conscious movement. He had remained that way up until only a few moments earlier and his sudden intake of breath and rapid eye moment was followed by a full body reaction as the Soldier threw himself off of the medical bed, shocking the Avenger's as he crawled away and began growling and looking around wild eyed, Metal arm protecting the injured flesh one. Steve had closed distance but stopped when he saw the fear and anger mixed with pain in his friends haunted eyes that were panic stricken, his breaths coming in short gasps as he shivered and convulsed. He tried to calm his friend, tried to explain that they wanted to fix his arm, but after taking a few steps further, he was greeted by a choked voice that spoke with a harsh Russian bark.

Steve looked at Natasha for help and she took a few steps forward with a carefully guarded expression.

"He said, "No, You can not take it." Natasha answer thoughtfully.

"Take it?... His arm?" Clint piped up from where he was sitting on top of a file cabinet with a tranquilizer gun in hand. Steve looked from Natasha to Clint then Sam and he swallowed as his eyes grew.

"Oh my God!" Steve uttered and looked back at his injured friend, desperate and scared, hiding the broken arm and defending it furiously.

"He thinks we're going to replace the arm,... his flesh arm." Banner stated with a swallow as he felt sick.

"Bucky,… Look at me, please, … Buck?" Steve crouched down but was knocked back with sudden force as the Soldier lashed out with his metal limb, sending his would be Handler flying back.

"HET!...HET! … Вы не примут!... я – человек! " The Asset cryed out in anger and fear. "я – человек…Не оружие!" (No!…No!...I am a Man!...I am a Man…. Not a weapon!) The Asset shook as he looked desperately at the faces in the room, expression not angry but rather pleading and contorted with pain and anguish. His eyes landed on the blond haired man who had gotten back to his feet with a grunt, ribs bruised. Steve looked at Bucky with wet, sad eyes and something in the Asset's expression changed suddenly. He blinked as his frantic breaths stopped in a gasp, brow furled and eyes wide, locked on the face before him. He knew that face, recognized him,…. His mission,…. Captain America. Instantly the Asset let out a shocked exhale then looked around him and back at Steve, his face twisted in confusion and helpless disbelief as all at once his senses sharpened, hearing and vision honed in on the man he once knew.

"Hey Bucky,….it's okay,….. Your safe,….. No one here will hurt you,…. No one is going to take your arm!" Steve tried to keep his tone even and calming despite the icy pain of empathy and burning fury at the realization that his friend was terrified they would take his flesh arm.

"He Said, 'I am a man, not a weapon.'" Natasha explained and Steve nodded, his gaze never leaving Bucky's who was completely fixated on the Captain, his body trembling with shallow wheezing breaths as he studied the familiar face with anxious hope and need shining bright in his blue Safire eyes.

"Your right!" Steve nodded again as he once more closed distance slowly and crouched down before his distraught and confused friend, staying just out of arms reach. "You are a man,…..not weapon!" Steve confirmed as he knelt in front of Bucky, laying his shield down completely at his side.

"Steve!" Sam warned warily from where he stood with the others. The Captain held up a hand toward Sam but kept his face on his friend, unwilling to break eye contact. The Soldier swallowed as his eyes darted toward the lowered shield then back toward the Captains face with an imploring look as he bit his lip.

"I…..I know you." The Asset spoke in a voice that was so shattered and filled with grief that Steve had to suck in a breath to keep his tears back. He nodded as he watched his friend's bewildered confusion become lost and pained. "Captain America,…Steve Roger's,….. You,… you were my Handler,…..before,…before Hydra?" The Soldier asked with a pout and eyes that searched Steve's face, wanting so badly to understand.

The word Handler hit Steve like a punch in the gut and he shook his head with a sad smile.

"No Bucky,…. I was your friend,….. I still am your friend,… always have been and always will be!" Steve replied as he let his hands hang loos in his lap, his shoulders slightly hunched. The Soldier looked off to the side as he bit his lip again, contemplating the word friend. He then looked backed up toward Steve and exhaled a quivered breath, eyes blinking as his vision blurred and he coughed, blood bubbling up and over his lip as his body shook. Steve's eyes grew in alarm and he couldn't help but move closer. "Bucky your sick, and your injured!... Please,… please let me help you!... Your safe here!...Please!" Steve's tone went from calm to pleading as he reached out a hand tentatively, palm open, just a foot away from Bucky. The Soldier looked at the hand with a slight flinch then to Steve, their blue eyes locking. After another tense moment the Soldier looked down and let out a whimper through a closed mouth as he leaned into the offered hand like a cat starved for love. His metal arm still gripped his broken arm as he rubbed his face against the warm calloused palm, the sensation bringing with it a tidal wave of emotions that drew another whimpered cry from his thought.

Steve let out a half sob at the sight of his friend, so scared and abused and in need of care. His chest felt tight like it might shatter into a million pieces as he watched Bucky nuzzle his open palm. After another moment, Steve scooted a little closer until he could place his other hand on Bucky's metal shoulder, softly. The Soldier opened his eyes that were heavy with exhaustion and pain.

"Bucky,…. Let me help you,….. let my friend fix your arm?... Please?...We wont take it,….. we just need to reset the bone so it can heal properly." Steve explained with a soft whisper. The trembling Soldier looked down at the broken arm then up to Steve with uncertainty and dread.

"This… is not Hydra?" The Soldier asked with hesitation as he once more looked pointedly at the other occupants of the lab, gaze scanning the faces with a furled brow. Steve shook his head and used his thumb to wipe the wetness from his friend's grime covered cheek.

"No Bucky,… No more Hydra,… They can't hurt you anymore!" Steve answered with certainty, jaw twitching as he tried to offer a smile of reassurance. The Soldier looked down at his arm again then let out a deflated and resigned sigh.

"I…" He swallowed and looked up at Steve with trepidation, lip in a pout. "I will comply,…I will be an obedient Asset,…I…..Permission to close my eyes during the required maintenance Sir?" The Asset's voice was a timid whisper as he lowered his head submissively.

Steve's body went ridged and he blinked before carefully using one hand to brush back the dirty locks of hair that hid Bucky's lowered face.

"Bucky,…You,…..What do you mean close your eyes?" Steve asked softly. The Soldier tensed as he let out another wheezed breath then looked up at Steve, eyes searching the face of his new Handler to determine if his next words would provoke anger and discipline. He swallowed and licked his dry lips.

"Don't make me watch Sir…I….." He trembled and hung his head as a soft whimper escaped his lips. Steve felt crushed by his friend's desperate plea and horrified that he had been not only conscious, but forced to watch as they preformed medical procedures on him.

"No Bucky!... No!... You don't have to watch!... You will be sedated and….and we will give you pain killers,…. Medicine that will help ease the pain!" Steve's voice sounded broken to his own ears as he gently massaged his friends scalp with one hand the other resting on Bucky's bare shoulder, thumb absently stroking over the scared flesh of the joint.

"Morphine?" The Soldier looked up with wide hopeful eyes, as if pain relief was a gift he could hardly fathom.

"Yeah, Morphine,… We will heal you and take away all your pain." Steve promised, feeling both hopeful and incredibly sad as he realized that the Soldier was genuinely stunned by the very idea that they would offer him pain relief.

"I have not earned a reward,…I will prove my worth,… I will perform and execute my missions with proficiency, I will not disobey,…..I.." The Soldier was cut off as Steve shook his head and pulled him forward into his embrace, Bucky's forehead pressed against his chest as Steve choked on another sob.

"It's okay,… Your gonna be okay,…. You don't have to prove anything,… You don't have to earn rewards or fear punishment!... No more Missions,….Your free Bucky!" Steve sighed as he released his friend who pulled back slowly, looking up at his Handler with confusion and distress. Steve swallowed and again stroked the side of Bucky's face, ignoring the flinch from the dark haired man. "I know your confused,….. That you don't understand,… But I swear to you,…. You will learn to be a man again,… Not a weapon,…. I will help you Bucky!... We all will!" Steve exclaimed gesturing toward the other Avengers who nodded in affirmation.

The Asset looked at the other's then back to Steve with a trembling sigh and a small nod. Steve offered him a smile and then brought their foreheads together with his own grateful sigh.

"I got you Bucky,…. I got you!" Steve's voice broke and as he cried, tears slipping down his face, he felt the soft, hesitant touch of a mental thumb against his cheek, wiping away the wetness with tentative care.

The End.

If you liked it please review. And check out my other Stories. I have one shots and an epically long two part story:

"No More Pain"

Followed by

"To Be The Man That I Am…..Bucky's Recovery"


End file.
